


Breathe a Sigh, or Two

by PuppyGuppy



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Dream Eater!Riku, M/M, bittersweet boys, first it's sour then it's sweet, minor mentions of other characters - Freeform, roundabout confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 05:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21350947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppyGuppy/pseuds/PuppyGuppy
Summary: Here hewas. A jagged jigsaw of Destiny's loose pieces, both human and not. Held together in the arms of the only other man he'd ever let take control of his heart.
Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 162





	Breathe a Sigh, or Two

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic has been written, rewritten, abandoned, picked back up, and then finally turned into what it is now. Finished? Sure. I started this during an emotional moment, kind of as a vent fic, but then worked through it- but, I liked too many parts of it to not do _something_ with it.
> 
> Title taken from the lyrics of Sarah McLachlan's "A Winter's Night".
> 
> <3

Riku closed his eyes.  _ Breathed.  _ In, out. Relished in the fresh, cold cut of oxygen expanding his warm lungs, left them tingling on the exhale. He focused, catalogued all the points in his body where a similar, almost painful contrast mingled; comfortable warmth against freezing shock. Nose, cheeks, fingers, toes- they burned to the point of numbness, created a dull, tolerable heat as he acclimated to his surroundings. Pink in their struggle.

He probably should have worn more layers, but he never did. Layers created baggage, created drag- and he needed to be _weightless. _Needed to be _precise. _This was a calculated practice, one he had only recently started to enjoy, then obsess over, then _perfect. _A hidden talent all his own, unaided by magic or keyblades or friends or Darkness. This, this was all just _him. _As natural as he could be, in an element just as betwixt and between as he was. Everything here was _Light- _but reflective and searing and strangling.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t  _ see;  _ blind and lost in a way that, after the life he’d lived, naturally instilled a percentage of fear in him. But he recognized this, allowed the palpitations of his heart, because in a few seconds the world blinked clear, bright and beautiful, and there was nothing to fear.

Except for  _ falling. _

And this. This was familiar, too. Beneath his feet, separated by a mere three inches of invisible ice, was a deep, dark abyss. Still, but endless and devouring. A frightening black hole in a world of white. One wrong move, a too-heavy step, and he could find himself choking on liquid darkness, cut by chains of icicles, veins swollen and blue and struggling to remain functioning beneath his skin. In that first breathless minute, Riku could never tell the difference between Darkness and the dangerous, disturbed surface of the lake. But, he’d overcome both before. Would continue to overcome them again and again and  _ again. _

After all, he was a  _ Master  _ now.

And he couldn’t let the fear of the fall control him. Because he was  _ always  _ falling. Had first fallen so many stupid, painful years ago. The fall was the worst part- disorientating and fast in the way he could never tell when he’d hit the ground. Once in Darkness, it could be  _ controlled.  _ Once over the shock, he could  _ swim.  _ It was just the fall he needed to control; turn each and every one into a  _ dive. _

Diving was exhilarating, dare he say almost  _ addicting.  _ It was lightning fast and smooth, a blur of colors and sounds, eyes unwavering on the target,  _ flying,  _ wind whipping at his hair. Until, at the last possible moment, he’d flip himself around, pounce, and  _ stick it.  _ Riku had never learned how to  _ really _ fly, too hit and miss with his ‘happy thoughts,’ no matter  _ how much  _ Pixie Dust Sora threw in his face. Diving was the closest he ever got, and though he couldn't compare it, he wouldn’t trade it.

He’d been diving into Sora’s heart for just over a year now. Strong, reliable, thrilling. But he’d been  _ falling  _ for Sora’s heart for as long as he could remember. Uncontrollable, unrelenting, terrifying. 

He was expected to dive into Sora’s heart. It was his duty, as much as a friend and a Keyblade Master; to keep the Nightmares at bay. He’d do it anyway, even if not expected to, even if not  _ asked  _ to _ ,  _ just like he’d done that very first time. But, that was all done in the comfort of sleep, fuzzy and forgotten outside the realm of dreams. He could  _ feel  _ in those dreams, feel every last little needling thing down the kaleidoscope of their link, body on hungry, almost feral autopilot. But, he could feel there, just  _ be;  _ completely free and safe despite the Darkness he was there to hunt. Because when he climbed back out, Sora would continue to sleep, peaceful and pliant, completely unaware of the heights Riku’s soul was careening from beside him, repeatedly crashing back into his body but never reaching the bed. Sora never saw his trembling hands, his parted lips, the pink that bled from his cheeks into his eyes, the  _ tears.  _ The unhealthy devotion. And by the time Sora woke up, Riku would be gone, showered, put together and presentable as always. 

Sometimes their eyes would linger, and Riku could feel his eyes shake, the beginnings of a bend in his irises, the expansion then warp of his pupils. He’d then have to dig fingernails into the palms of his hands, breathe in measured counts, and blink.  _ Look away.  _ And he’d still feel those baby blues on him, could follow their track in the trail of goosebumps on his skin. But he wouldn’t look again.  _ Couldn’t.  _

Sora’s eyes either looked like the sky or the ocean, depending on what he was taking in, what he was thinking. Usually, Riku was faced with twin portholes into the Benthic Zone. He hadn’t seen windows to the Thermosphere in a while now. But that was okay- Riku didn’t deserve the sky, couldn’t fly; always diving, always  _ falling,  _ into the sea, into the Dark for Sora, when he wasn’t pulled away to missions or meetings or coronations. When he wasn’t in the middle of a war he’d helped start.

So, Riku’d taken up some hobbies, post prevention of the end of the world ( _ again _ ). He’d taken up reading, anything and everything; it gave him a safe, easy escape to a different world, a different body, when his was too much or not enough. He had a soft spot for poetry, an even softer spot for myths and religious scripture. Sora says he’s met gods, wants to take Riku to meet them; Riku always says there’s no need, he’s met a god, too. He’d tried painting, a suggestion from Namine, thought it might help him channel his thoughts, his energies, his  _ feelings,  _ in a less obvious way. She’d implied abstract concepts, and though he had really  _ tried,  _ his brain always fixated on color-matching and steady strokes, and every finished piece came out fully realized; too clear, too obvious, too  _ real.  _ So he’d tucked the canvases away somewhere safe, unseen, and sat on the knowledge that at least it was another thing he was good at. Could possibly come in handy, someday. He was always doing that- constantly learning, collecting, preparing himself for the future, the possible, the  _ inevitable.  _ This was just a calm before yet another storm. Funny, how the calm could be more unnerving than the countless wars.  _ And then. _

And then.

He’d been sent on a mission to Arendelle. When Sora found out, he hadn’t shut up for  _ weeks.  _ Kept going on about how beautiful it was, about a Queen he thought he’d get along with, about a  _ walking, talking snowman.  _ About how  _ cold  _ it was. Riku had let him babble, took note of whatever valuable pieces of information his best friend had. Tried not stare at his mouth, his smile, looked at his hands instead, which wasn't any better, because Sora used them as visible punctuation when  _ that  _ excited, and so he just ended up dizzy. When he'd risked a look to his friend's face, needed to dunk himself in cleansing ocean eyes, he was instead rocketed straight through the atmosphere by breezy, bright blue.  _ The sky.  _

The sky of Arendelle had been the exact same color, exact same temperament, the first time he'd gone. And Sora had been right. It  _ was  _ beautiful. And cold. But, he'd been there to disband a few rowdy Heartless while Queen Elsa was away on royal business; just an extra helping hand while Princess Anna stepped in. He had not been sent to sight-see. That being said, Princess Anna had  _ insisted  _ her partner, Kristoff, show Riku around the kingdom, to which he eventually politely agreed to, if only because he knew he hadn’t really had a  _ choice.  _ He'd been aggressively reminded of Sora, in her stubbornness and her winning grin. 

Kristoff was... _ nice.  _ He’d tried. But Riku could tell he’d been just about as awkward as he was, just in a different manner. He seemed rather attached to his reindeer, Sven. But, he had no room to judge- he was best friends with a  _ mouse.  _ So the tour of the kingdom had been filled mostly with silence, the occasional comment, a half-assed joke, etc. It hadn’t been uncomfortable, perse, but he’d gotten the feeling that neither of them really knew what to do, and would have rather been somewhere else. It was at a point, fairly deep into the tour, away from the castle, the town, and even most houses, that Kristoff had turned to Riku with an unreadable expression.

Then again, Riku was really only good at reading two things: books, and  _ Sora. _

“Hey, look- I know we just met and all, but I want to show you something. Something  _ cool.  _ If you’re game?”

Riku hadn’t respond immediately. Had to think about it. But he really had nothing to lose, and he was  _ curious;  _ if anything, maybe it would be something he could tell Sora about later. So he hadn’t let the silence stretch into  _ awkward,  _ before giving the man a short, affirmative nod. Riku was...very glad he had.

It brought him to where he was  _ now.  _

Standing, blades of his skates just brushing on the surface of a fresh, barely frozen lake. Technically, he should be back at the Mysterious Tower. Back in  _ bed.  _ He’d only arrived there last night, after everyone else had gone to bed. He’d been on a long-haul stay in the Land of Departure; full of conferences and paper work and decision making. It had all been rather  _ dull,  _ but the off-time spent with Terra and Aqua was refreshing. It always was. Because they  _ knew.  _ They knew so much, and in the time after the war, in a time of shifting, changing, ending and  _ beginning  _ friendships, he couldn’t help but gravitate towards that comforting, familiar knowledge; their hands shake in the same way his do. But, when he’d arrived back ‘home,’ back at the Mysterious Tower, he’d been beyond exhausted in a way a bed couldn’t fix. And then he’d passed Sora’s room on the way to his, couldn’t help but peek inside, and that had been the worst idea  _ ever. _

The moonlight filtering into Sora’s room illuminated a tantalizing strip of tan hip skin gone milky, exposed to the cool tower air since the sheets were tangled around his legs, pajamas a haphazard mess of  _ sleep.  _ His chest rose and fell, nice and slow, steady and even,  _ peacefully.  _ It filled Riku with  _ relief,  _ knowing that at least tonight, hopefully, they could both get some rest; though he  _ would,  _ because of course he would, he still didn’t feel  _ ready  _ to do a dive quite so soon. But then he’d slid his gaze up, expecting to catalogue another snoozing Sora to his chain of memories, and instead found the top floor of the tower crumbling beneath his feet. The moonlight filtering into Sora’s room illuminated and reflected off deep-blue, waves lapping at slow, blinking eyelids, each one scattering bioluminescent algae blooms of clarity across blown pupils.  _ Sora was awake. _

Riku hadn’t realized he’d been falling until he landed back in the pilot seat of the Gummi Ship, love-induced body-dissociation abruptly over. He knew where he had to go. It’s where he  _ always  _ went now- when things got too much, when  _ he  _ got too much.

Arendelle. 

The lake.

Riku closed his eyes.  _ Breathed.  _ In, out. He could feel the early morning sun now, just through his hat and jumper, took note of the tingles on his scalp and shoulders now joining with the rest, reminding him of where he was. He flexed his fingers, curled cold tips against warm palms. Then he  _ pushed. _

When he opened his eyes again, he couldn't  _ see;  _ couldn’t see anything except for the smooth, jet-black road ahead. The world around him was a windy rush of shades of white, streaked with shocks of alpine green. He’d finally stopped  _ falling _ , finally flipped around and turned it into a horizontal dive. And with another strong push off the delicate ice, Riku was finally in  _ control,  _ of both his mind and his body. His heart was always the  _ hardest  _ to subdue, but that, too, would come with another push or two, when it was given a sound to sing with.

And what a sound he could give it.

One more push, and he was gliding into a calculated curve, following the bend of the lake’s edge; skates slicing at the thin surface and sending fissures stretching outwards, cracking, snapping, echoing in choppy waves off the surrounding mounds of snow and ice. The first long, ringing note sent chills scraping down his spine, and sent his heart stuttering. He hadn’t  _ always  _ been able to sing with his skates. It took lots and lots of  _ painstaking _ practice, dedication, and studying (weather conditions, ice conditions, his own body conditions, etc.). He fell  _ a lot, _ at first. But he was used to that. Threatened his body with frostbite in his determination to  _ get it right.  _ He’d been hooked since the day he watched Kristoff on the ice, though a bit clumsier still than he was now. Hooked on the feel, the sight, the  _ sound.  _ Hooked on it like he was on diving, like he was on  _ Sora.  _ And so, at first, he’d found any reason to come back, mouth full of half-truths and evasions, bag bursting with socks and scarves and skates and bandages. Kristoff used to come and watch, moreso out of concern for Riku’s safety than anything, but he’d been proven quickly that it didn’t matter. Riku was going to do what he was going to do, reckless or not, and Kristoff never saw him get into a situation he couldn’t then eventually get himself out of. He always offered help, but Riku never took it.

Until finally, Riku was alone: just him, the ice, the fear of falling, and  _ music.  _

He visited Arendelle,  _ the lake,  _ a lot less now. If he’d kept disappearing like he had in the beginning, he would have had more than just Yen Sid on his ass. He’d have Mickey to deal with, and then worse,  _ Sora.  _ Master Yen Sid was blunt, cutthroat, quick to anger with him- but also, really had no power over him. Riku could easily shrug him off, because usually, in the end, he still did everything the wizard asked of him, and did it  _ perfectly.  _ So he really couldn’t complain, no matter how many of his buttons Riku pressed. Sora was never so lucky; Master Yen Sid really laid it on  _ thick  _ when it came to his best friend, even after everything- everything Sora had  _ done for them.  _ Riku always had to remove himself from the vicinity when Sora was summoned, lest his eyes squint to red and his nails cut through his gloves, through his  _ palms- _

There was a sharp, startling  _ snap  _ beneath Riku’s feet, and he wobbled, had to throw his arms out to regain balance into another (less  _ weighty _ ) glide. He’d gotten distracted. But the resulting sound brought him back to reality, back to breathing, back to a rabbit-racing heart he was trying to  _ quell.  _

He’d stopped coming to Arendelle, the lake,  _ his lake,  _ because Sora had started asking questions, and Mickey had started giving  _ looks,  _ both of which were impossible for him to deal with. He couldn’t shrug off the disappointment of The King, couldn’t shoulder the responsibility of Master and Dream Eater and  _ secret figure skater.  _ Couldn’t let Sora figure out he’d been  _ lying,  _ no matter how white the lies.

Usually, he kept his new ‘secret place’ to a  _ detour-only  _ minimum. He’d stop there between worlds, between missions, on his way from home or back to home. It helped him unwind and prepare; lately, being back and relaxing at the Mysterious Tower was as exhausting and nerve-wracking as being anywhere else, doing anything else. This time, he’d been  _ stupid,  _ panicky, he’d been  _ seen- _

This time, a crunch that vibrated up his shins rattled him out of his thoughts, and he had to swivel in a tight circle to still himself out in the middle of the lake, weight particularly distributed while his guts raced with vertigo. Here, the ice was  _ thinner,  _ the potential of falling  _ greater,  _ the need to focus  _ paramount.  _ He was panting. And  _ sweating.  _ Could feel beads bubbling along his brow and the nape of his neck. Which, climate and skill considered, shouldn’t be possible. But, apparently, he was shaken up more than he even let on to  _ himself.  _ It almost felt-

It almost felt like his first time again.  _ Out of control. _

Riku closed his eyes.  _ Breathed.  _ In, out. And he  _ listened.  _ Listened to the gentle breeze around him, the threatening crackle of ice around him, still under him. Listened to the rushing in his ears, and then deeper, listened to his  _ heart.  _ Beyond the hammering, beyond the aching, deeper still, until he heard the lonely cry of  _ him;  _ the Dream Eater, the Sound Idea, the  _ Soul.  _ A sad half of an only once-performed duet. Unseen, he reached for that song, pulled at the chords with desperate, trembling hands, until like an unmuted symphony, piano keys struck up his spine and a violin thrummed through his veins, the drums in his ears pulsing, acting as if awakened, biological metronomes. 

He didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t  _ need  _ to; the sheet music in his mind’s eye mapped out the edges of the lake, orchestrated a dance across the ice he already knew he could do, with perfectly plotted blade-points where he could make the world sing with him. It wasn’t his preferred partner, nor his naturally complimenting solo, but it was still a living, breathing, unpredictable melody. At least there was  _ life  _ in it, unlike the flat, object-permanence of the instruments he’d tried to play along with the tune inside of himself. Every instrument he tried was  _ wrong,  _ and though this wasn’t  _ right,  _ either, it was better.

So he pushed off, again, and _ this _ time nature responded to his call, grasped and guided him with grace, through glides and bends and swirls; each drag of his blades met with the eerie drone and pop of the temporarily solid rink. It wasn’t a perfect match, not even really a match at all, but still his heart  _ sang,  _ louder and louder, as if stuck in a match of dueling organs, and it wanted to  _ win.  _ Wanted to scream it’s crescendo, let it ring through the mountains,  _ I’m here, I’m here, I feel, I’m real, come find me, come find me, come play with me, hear me, listen, sing with me, love me. _

_ Love me _ .

I love you.

_ Please. _

Every song has an end, though. By the time Riku reached his,  _ their  _ finale, of what he dubbed ‘ _ A Frozen Devotion,’  _ he was panting again, strands of wind-whipped hair sticking to his sweat-damp face and neck _ ,  _ and could feel the fabric of his jumper soaked to his back. He was a fire burning blue in the middle of Destiny’s snow globe; the ice and snow and sounds settling around him, along with his heart inside him.

But when he opened his eyes this time, at least he could  _ see;  _ could see Sora standing  _ right there,  _ at the edge of the lake.

His whole body went ram-rod rigid in shock, and then he was falling,  _ literally,  _ the sudden shift in his weight too much for the scraped up, melting ice. He knew he had about three seconds to prepare himself, steel his breath before he’d have it all choked out of him, before the unstoppable, numbing darkness,  _ Darkness- _

“ _ Whoa!  _ Riku, I got’cha!”

He was no longer falling, or diving, or flying, or even  _ skating.  _ He was hovering. Held up by tiny, stronger-than-they-looked hands under either of his arms. Sora had caught him. And was still holding him up. Yet, his heart felt as if it was continuing to plummet to the bottom of that black, choppy water, forcing air out of his lungs and bubbles through his mouth. To put it plainly, he couldn’t think of what to say. So, he didn’t say anything, just let Sora float him over to a more stable sheet of ice, where he was oh so gingerly placed back down. It took him a moment to stabilize himself, reorient his weight as needed, until he could stand without Sora’s warm,  _ warm  _ hands on his sides. 

Riku couldn’t look at him, not until he was sure what color his eyes were; so he stared at the dark ice instead, hands forming fists at his sides. Felt  _ relief  _ wash over him in shivers when his reflection revealed his stereotypical teal (though that could have also just been the sweat rapidly cooling on his skin). Through the reflection, he risked a glance at his best friend’s floating form. Even  _ now  _ he still had enough happy thoughts to keep himself airborne. He couldn’t make out the shade of Sora’s eyes from that angle, thankfully. Another relief.

“Riku, what are you doing here?” Riku had to  _ concentrate  _ not to flinch at the question. He had to remember where he was, didn’t need Sora to come to his silly rescue  _ again.  _ He wasn’t the one needing protection, the one Destiny seemed to constantly want in her definitive, deathly grasp. Always visible, but barred from Riku, be it by opposing forces of nature, doors, glass, chains,  _ globes. _

“I could ask you the same thing.”  _ Ouch,  _ he felt the sting of those words a little too late. After he’d said them. Just adding another layer to the metaphorical  _ ice  _ currently between them. He didn’t mean to be mean, never wanted to be mean to Sora, but it was so hard, sometimes, when there was an animal forever dying on the inside from neglect; the same animal that had sacrificed itself over and over and over again for the very boy before him. But that wasn’t  _ fair.  _ Sora never asked Riku to do that, and Riku knew he couldn’t expect anything in return. He  _ didn’t  _ expect anything in return. The animal was just  _ greedy. Selfish.  _

“ _ Riku,  _ you  _ know  _ why I’m here. You were home for all of five minutes before leaving again. Before  _ running!  _ Away from  _ me?  _ You didn’t answer me. You didn’t stop. So I followed you.” Sora sounded  _ mad,  _ which was fair. More specifically, offended. Which was still  _ fair.  _ Riku still refused to make proper eye contact, but saw the way Sora lowered himself towards the ice through their reflections. For a moment, he worried maybe he’d run out of happy thoughts, that maybe he’d filled him with nothing but  _ sad  _ thoughts. But, he stopped just before his shoes connected with the ice, basically standing in front of him. “Riku, you scared me. I was  _ worried  _ about you.” Still happy enough to fly; almost unbelievably so, with how heavy his voice sounded, full of concern.

Riku wanted to close his eyes again, but the reflected movement of Sora’s hand caught his eye, brought his startled gaze up and away from the ice. Just as he looked, soft, palm-warmed leather connected with his cheek in a shy press; Sora’s gloved hand.

When he looked,  _ all  _ of Sora was basically in a glove. His friend’s usual bark-colored spikes were shoved and tamed inside a plush, black and red hat. Not an inch of the skin beyond his face was even visible, decked out in other tufts and threads of thermal, maraschino wool, black and gray and red, complimenting in their contrast. Sora looked  _ good  _ in black. Stood out in black. Just like the freckles on his face now stood out against chapped cheeks. It seemed the Good Fairies had finally granted the boy a much-needed, and  _ practical, _ wardrobe upgrade. Even down to his  _ average-sized boots.  _

Riku  _ really  _ should have worn more layers. Maybe it would’ve helped him feel less  _ naked  _ when he finally met his best friend’s eyes, as endless and nearly as dark as the water beneath them. He wanted to shrink, then- to skate across those eyes instead; wondered what it’d be like to shatter the cornea, wade through the iris, succumb to the pupil and drown in his tears. The hand fell away from his face, and in him, the animal cried.

“Riku, why are you here? What if I hadn’t been here to  _ catch  _ you?” Sora’s breath steamed out between them, hot and visible and shaking. Whether that was from the cold,  _ or... _ Riku wasn’t sure. Didn’t let himself dwell on it, wouldn’t give the animal a bone. Just a cage in his ribs.

“I come here sometimes. To think. To skate. Just when things get a little bit too... _ much,  _ you know?” Riku looked away again, let his eyes fall to the scenery behind Sora. No point in lying  _ now.  _ “It’s just a silly hobby. You should try one, sometime.” A tease, though it fell flatter than the snow around them. And Riku knew that, also knew that Sora  _ did  _ have hobbies (he was a wizard in the kitchen), but he had to  _ try.  _

A sickening  _ crack  _ echoed out across the lake, and Riku’s eyes snapped up, wide. Sora wasn’t hovering anymore, both his boots solidly placed on the ice, and it was too much, too fast, the sludging surface couldn’t handle it.

“Was _ I _ …? Am  _ I  _ too much, then?” Sora’s head lowered, downcast, and both his hands curled into his chest, over his heart, as if shielding it from the expected answer.

There was another crack, but Riku was pretty sure  _ that _ one started from in his heart, then ripped through his bones and into the solidified water in a sound both audible and painful. He’d danced with the ice, sang with the ice, and now the ice was crumbling with him.

They were  _ both  _ going to fall. He  _ panicked.  _

"Yes! I mean,  _ no.  _ Sora, no, you're  _ not  _ too much. But right now, you're too much  _ on the ice. _ " Riku rushed, reached out for his best friend, who only recoiled and sent another tremble through their feet, caused his skates to  _ wobble.  _

"But you ran away from  _ me.  _ You took one look at me and  _ bolted _ , Riku- what, what have I done? I'm sorry if I startled you, I was just awake because I  _ missed  _ you. You  _ know _ it's hard for me to sleep without-" Sora was rambling, obviously stressed, and not that Riku didn't care, not that he didn't deserve to hear every bad word of how he made him feel,  _ but they needed to move.  _ So he cut him off by pulling him close to his chest, quick and sharp, and used the momentum to push backwards on his blades in a haphazard glide to  _ somewhat  _ safety. 

Instinctively, he'd curled around Sora, arms wound tightly around his small frame, holding him up off the ice and up against himself (not that it mattered, it was still too much sudden weight), with the side of his face pressed protectively against his friend's head. For a moment, he just breathed,  _ hard _ , stared down at the spot of ice now collapsed into a black hole of murky, murderous water. Absently, he felt Sora doing the same, just  _ breathing,  _ but between his pecs. For a moment, they were stable. Physically. 

Riku never let himself touch. Not like  _ this  _ anymore _ . _ If he touched, he’d never let  _ go.  _ He’d dig his palms in, then fingers, then nails, then  _ claws,  _ until he could take root there in Sora’s skin; bloom big and bright and beautiful, fed off the pure, nutrient-rich essence of  _ light  _ and  _ love  _ in Sora’s viens. And it wouldn’t stop  _ there. _ He’d want to drill a tap directly into the source, and he had talons amidst his teeth, perfect for puncturing the rabbit-quick pulse-point of his wielder’s neck.

"Riku, why  _ this?  _ This is  _ dangerous.  _ Aren't you afraid of falling?" Sora's voice reached his ears, shaky and muffled by his shirt. Surely, Sora knew he was scared. Of  _ course  _ he was scared. Could he not feel the way his own heart thundered? 

" _ Yes. _ " Riku unfurled around Sora, enough to finally meet the storm heading his way through turbulent blues. "But I'm  _ always  _ falling Sora. Been falling for a very long time."  _ There,  _ that was the…  _ closest  _ he'd probably ever get to an actual confession. It was obtuse at best, and while part of him felt raw in its wake, the rest of him figured it was too vague for Sora to even understand. "At least here, I can learn to live with that. Learn to control-" 

"Show me."

Riku faltered, choked on dead words, stared at Sora with apprehension and trepidation. His arms flexed and relaxed around him, almost  _ dropped him,  _ then remembered where they were. “W-what? Hadn’t you already been watch-”

“ _ Show me. _ ”

Sora met Riku’s hesitant bewilderment with a look all his own; lips thin in determination, eyes wide, eyebrows knitted, head tilted in a tugging desperation. His face was red, and he assumed from more than just the cold. Riku  _ felt  _ that tug, from deep inside himself, a rusty anchor busted loose and left tumbling towards the rocky seafloor by a captain he didn’t know was steering the breakneck ship of his body; he had no option but to  _ brace for whiplash  _ from the unexpected stop of his heart, lest he snap the chain- the  _ link.  _

Sora didn’t use the link often. Left that up to Riku, which was a blessing and a curse. The last time he’d used it was...when he’d bitten off more than he could chew, after going after Kairi. And even  _ then,  _ Sora hadn’t  _ meant  _ to. Had explicitly told that to Riku, around a mouthful of apologies (which he never accepted, because they weren’t  _ necessary) _ . It had been just like the first time: Riku naturally answered the call, and though he hadn’t explicitly consented to it, either, he wouldn’t have stopped it if he could. Sora had needed him. Aside from that, the link went pretty much untouched between them. Riku only ever used it for Dream Eating, where the pull, the push, the  _ give  _ of two souls combining into one could easily melt into the average, nonsensical feelings of indistinguishable good dreams. Sora was always very considerate of the changes Riku went through after their Mark of Mastery Exam; always full of gentle encouragement, but also tongue-bitten, invasive questions. Nevertheless, he knew Riku had spent a majority of his life in a body not his  _ own,  _ and vowed to never do anything that may further damage his still-budding sense of self-confidence. Self-worth. Self- _ trust.  _ Sora just wanted Riku to be  _ Riku.  _ And had said as much, repeatedly. 

But Riku was a Dream Eater, a Master, and barely now a man. His regrets, his failures, his baggage, his past, the link, the  _ love-  _ it was all a part of Riku. All a part of what Sora just wanted him to  _ be.  _ But it was-

_ Too much.  _

_ He  _ was the one that was too much.

And now Sora was calling upon that  _ too muchness.  _ Risking the use of the link, just to get Riku to  _ show him.  _

“Riku,  _ please. _ ” 

Sora didn’t even have to ask. He was at the wheel now, had anchored Riku to this spot, to this  _ moment,  _ right in the middle of an emotional bermuda triangle. The needle in his heart lost, spinning, searching, though his true magnetic north stood right before him, yet to be fully realized. 

Riku closed his eyes.  _ Breathed.  _ In, out. Nodded, though his heart ached and the ice continued to melt; both now spent and sensitive. 

“You’ll need to get off the ice.”

He didn’t open his eyes, but he felt the way Sora removed himself in the rush of cold air against his body. Apparently, he’d found himself at least  _ one  _ happy thought again. Riku couldn’t even begin to guess how he did that. He was alone again on the ice, with the potential of falling more than just a possibility now, but an inevitable outcome; the ice was too wet and his feet too heavy, his heart in his skates. But, he’d do this for Sora. Show him his control, how even if he slipped just as hard again, he’d pull himself back out, and that Sora didn’t have to  _ worry.  _

He’d show him he was a  _ Master,  _ in everything that he was.

Including the controlled descent of his feelings for his best friend.

He didn’t think his heart could sing again, not so soon after it’s previous performance, but he pushed off the melting surface, anyways, in a glide that created only a single, wobbly, somber note. But that was okay, Riku didn’t  _ need  _ his heart to sing again. Didn’t need the ice to play along this time. Sora had only asked to  _ see.  _ Besides, Sora already knew what his heartsong sounded like (though from a time Riku hadn’t been able to  _ filter  _ it; a time where it had been much louder, much happier, a part of a  _ whole _ ). All he needed to prove was that he could  _ skate.  _ That he had enough control, even in this situation, when thrown even more off his game, to carry himself delicately and precisely along the ice.

The thin, shattered,  _ melting  _ ice.

He could do this.

He’d won  _ wars. _

His heart didn’t even need to be involved. This was _all _a mind game. Just like the Mark of Mastery should have been.

Riku closed his eyes.  _ Breathed.  _ In, out- heard Sora’s sharp inhale of anticipation, and just like that his brain was  _ gone,  _ heart clenching, fingers shaking, weight shifting- he felt his toes dip, ankle buckle, and once more steeled himself for the drop into the freezing dark, that sinking feeling of  _ shame. _

He’d proved  _ nothing  _ to Sora. And what’s worse, he made himself look like a  _ fool.  _ He was bound to get an earful. What kind of  _ best friend  _ ran away from the other? What kind of  _ Master  _ sought out unnecessary danger? How was he supposed to keep the  _ universe _ in balance if he couldn’t even walk the high-wire of his own heart?

And  _ why  _ wasn’t he wet yet?

When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t _see; _but that’s because he’d had them closed tight enough to shoot stars across his vision. He’d expected a face full of shredded ice, not a face full of- well, _nothing. _After a few hard blinks, though, it wasn’t really _nothing, _but it was just Arendelle, and the lake, undisturbed. Because he hadn’t fallen. Sora had caught him, his arms wrapped firm and gentle underneath and around his own. Sora had caught him, _again, _was holding him up, _again, _had felt the need to rescue him, _again. _

Something in him snapped, just like the surface beneath him, and just as sharp. Not at Sora, though it came out that way. At  _ himself. _

“You should have let me fall. I had it under control. I would have been  _ fine.”  _ He glared (pouted) at some frost-covered tree in the distance, tried to melt the snow there by sheer force of will. He was burning up inside from inadequacy, embarrassment, and from where Sora’s hands curled around his shoulders protectively, and how he wished,  _ possessively.  _

He heard a laugh above him, a soft, tinkling sound; full of exasperation, but nothing else. The arms around him squeezed, and he felt his heart do the same in his chest.

“_I know. _But I wanted to catch you, Riku. You deserve more than _fine._” Sora leaned in close then, close to Riku’s ear, close enough for warm air and warm words to wrack his nervous system with pins and needles. “I’ll always catch you, Riku. If you just _let me._”

Riku felt like he should respond, felt like he  _ needed  _ to, but his best friend’s words echoed between his ears, shook loose the barely-compacted thoughts there, because that had sounded- that had sounded a lot like a  _ confession,  _ just as obtuse as his own, and he knew that if he dared open his mouth, the avalanche building in the back of his throat would spill out and off his tongue in a beautiful, crushing rush.

“Somethings  _ can’t  _ be controlled, Riku. And that’s okay. But, why spend all this time falling alone, when you could be  _ flying with me?”  _ Sora’s words had turned unto a hum before he’d even finished speaking, but Riku’d been able to understand him, regardless. And that  _ definitely  _ sounded like a confession. But, Riku had no chance to clumsily pry for clarification, not a second extra to compose the doubtful, hesitant, sludgy hope in his heart, because Sora was still humming; and he recognized the tune before he realized it, the first few notes of their  _ Dearly Beloved.  _ Then, as if the humming wasn’t enough, there was  _ tugging,  _ on the link and under his arms, and not that Riku even wanted to fight, but he also  _ couldn’t,  _ dangling in the air and all at once it was like something inside of him unfurled; a feathery touch against the inside of his ribs as his lungs expanded beyond their previously assumed capacity, and he was experiencing zero gravity in a way not even skating almost  _ naked  _ gave him, like falling in reverse-

He was  _ flying.  _

And it  _ looked  _ a lot like diving, the frozen landscape suddenly awash and alight in technicolor accents, but there had been no dive- if anything, he'd been gently  _ dropped  _ into this dream. He could fly in dreams, though always in a protective, adrenaline fueled rush. Flying in dreams was never  _ pleasant _ . Not like this. So, not a dream then, because the wings he'd sprouted here were Sora's legs and not the Dream Eater's.

_ Not his own.  _

Sora had stopped humming, but not  _ tugging.  _ And then there was a path laid out in front of him, much like the earlier map he'd mentally followed on the ice, but this one was full of loops and hills and dips and corkscrews, visible notes that led higher and higher into the air. It reminded him of the Symphony of Sorcery, of Sora, this was  _ their path,  _ their song. Their link, thrumming, enticing,  _ pink  _ and on display _ ,  _ somewhere an invisible, coy orchestra just waiting for their conductors to start. 

Tentatively, Riku reached up to grip at the hands curled around his shoulders. Though the touch was through gloves, it meant no less, and he felt Sora's responding grin against the back of his neck. That was his one and only warning before he was sent whizzing through the sky. It was  _ terrifying,  _ but he trusted Sora. 

Up until the point in which Sora gave him a soft smeck on the cheek, then let him go. At the  _ crescendo.  _ Even then, as his body careened back towards the lake, he didn't stop trusting Sora. He  _ couldn't.  _ Not when his heart was still up there in the clouds with him. Sora would never drop him on purpose, he was  _ heavy  _ after all. He just hoped the water wouldn't feel like concrete from such a height. He'd survived worse falls, literally falling for his best friend couldn't hurt  _ that  _ much, right? 

He didn't get to find out. 

This time, when Sora caught him, he was scooped up into his arms and against his chest,  _ bridal style  _ of all ways. It was  _ ridiculous,  _ considering their size difference. And maybe it was that, or the feeling of organs and oxygen slamming back into his body, or the way Sora's grin was more blinding than the winter sun, that had Riku throwing his head back in unrestrained laughter. He'd forgotten how  _ fun  _ falling could be. Somewhere in that fall, Sora had lost his hat, and Riku had lost all sense of control, and all his mind to  _ care.  _ So when he calmed back down enough to smile at his best friend, he knew it was with a mouth full of fangs and pink, teary eyes. 

Sora's grin only grew. 

And while their song continued to play out its ending, and Sora gently glided them back down to the ground, Riku heard a fond whisper just over the wind in his ears. 

" _ There  _ you are."


End file.
